


New Life

by icestorm1196



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Study, First Person Castiel, Gen, Leads up to Holy Terror, Spoilers Season 9, coda 09x09, first person POV, sort of angsty, spoilers season 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 12:27:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icestorm1196/pseuds/icestorm1196
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short head canon of the events leading up to the end of Holy Terror</p><p> </p><p>'One of the last things Dean said to me as an angel was 'I need you.'  One of the first things he said to me as a human was 'you can't stay'</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Life

One of the last things Dean said to me as an angel was "I need you."

He said it more than once, then, actually. _I need you._ Three such simple words. Three words of such....magnitude. 

Humans always put more store by "I love you," but for me...love can change. Love can be fickle, for all the pretty words that scriptures say about it. When humans say it, it is not always patient or kind, slow to anger, or quick to forgive. It is not constant. Humans love, and they stop loving. They gain and lose it often. There is even a saying, that if you love something, you must give it up. 

_Need_ though. Need is different. Need is constant, need remains. Need...is everything.

He told me that he needed me.

And then the angels fell. I can still see it, my grace, floating away from me, slipping into that small glass vial, Metatrons gloating, smug face only inches from my own. A new life, he said. Make a new story. 

I woke cold and alone. I couldn't see, not well, could no longer feel the threads of the universe, couldn't see past the intricate patterns of dimensions, the fabric time. Just the dark, vague shapes of trees. Hands...my hands. Not a vessels hands, but my own now. I dug my nails into my palm and marveled at the sensation of it. My body, the body I knew, was just...gone. My True Form now...just my vessel. My body.  
It was the lights that drew me from my stupor. I found a break in the trees, and felt my first true human emotions. Horror. Despair. Guilt. I thought I'd known guilt before. But this....watching my brothers and sisters fall to earth, innocent of any wrongdoing, knowing it was my fault...I'd never known such anguish before.

Other sensations came as well, in that next day. Pain of many kinds being the primary indicator. I bled. I was beaten and bruised, knocked unconscious. I knew hunger, for the first time, thirst so intense, I thought my body might burst into sand. I'd never considered...

Water is life. I never really thought about just how true that is. Water means more though, than clothing, than food.

Dean had told me to get to the bunker. Sam was sick, and angels would be after me and I needed to get my ass to the bunker as soon as I could. 

I am not a fool. I protected myself in the best way I knew. I used what little money I had left for the tattoo. Enochian sigils, angels would not be able to find me. Demons would not be able to do so either. I was as safe as I could get, for the moment. 

What happened with April...was surprising. For the first time since I'd become human, I felt hopeful. She'd given me food, cleaned my injuries. She'd introduced me to pleasure I hadn't even considered existed. She gave me my first good feelings, since I'd become human. Of course, she was also the first betrayal, as a human. Pain was not new, not anymore. 

And Dean crashed into the room just as the sword entered my chest. Immense pain, then darkness.

Then, light again, and Dean was in front of me, hand on my face, hand on my knee, and I could see the relief in his face.

I didn't have to walk anymore. 

The bunker was...wonderful. I had my first proper shower. It was far better than using restroom sinks at train stations, or the showers at homeless shelters. I found a bedroom that I thought I could make my own. It was small, but serviceable. There was a wardrobe, a bed, a desk. I set my backpack down, pulled out a wrinkled photograph. I'd taken it from Bobby's, years ago. I think he knew, but he let me take it anyway. Sam and Dean, neither looking at the camera, were the only two in the picture. It was old by that point, wrinkled and slightly torn. I set it on the desk next to the bed. The mattress was old, with squeaky springs and musty sheets, but I could see potential in that little room. A blue bedspread. A shelf, where maybe I could put some books. I would have to get a gun, some more weapons, I remember thinking, even as I put the angel blade on the desk next to the picture. I pulled on dirty clothes again, though not the ones I'd worn the day before.

I was....happy. I was _home_. 

One of the last things Dean said to me as an angel was "I need you."

One of the first things he said to me as a human was "You can't stay." 

 

I was frozen, for a moment, half eaten burrito forgotten, except for the nauseas rolling in my stomach. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't stay? 

I didn't understand. Had it been a joke? Some....punishment that he felt I deserved, for all I had done, all I had put him through? But...he'd forgiven me, for the worst of it. Unless, he blamed me for Sam's being...ill. For not being able to heal him. For being useless. But I'd told him I was human. I'd told him that I had no power anymore. Maybe he hadn't...seen just what that meant, not until he saw me, bleeding and dead at the hands of the reaper. Maybe he hadn't figured out what my new humanity was until he saw me sleep in the impala on the way back to the bunker, until he saw me eat that burrito like it was the best thing I'd ever tasted. 

I was not an angel anymore. I was human. Useless. A burden. A danger to himself, to Sam. 

I had been foolish. I had allowed myself to hope for something. To hope that Dean had needed _me_ , not just my power. How naive, to think I had earned a home here. Or anywhere. How childish, to think Dean had seen me as anything but a tool. And now I was broken. 

And why was he staring at me like that, like he was sad to have these words sliding from his mouth? Why had he brought me here, let me shower, let me eat, only to throw me out again? Why had he saved me at all? 

He must _hate_ me, I remember thinking. I don't...recall if he said anything after that. I stood. I said that I would just go and collect my things. He didn't follow me to the room I'd almost claimed. I closed the door, looked around again. 

_Not for me,_ I thought. _It was never meant for me._

I slid the angel blade into the backpack. I picked up that photo, the only thing I had made sure to keep with me no matter what. I stared at it for a moment, just holding it. Then I crumpled it, into as small a ball as I could manage. It was difficult. My hands were shaking. My eyes were wet, hot. My throat was tight. My chest, constricted. I hadn't cried since the night of the Fall. 

I threw the small ball of paper away from me, pressed my palms into my eyes. I would not let him see...

I managed to get myself under control again. I picked up the crumpled photograph again. I wanted to leave it. I couldn't bring myself to do so. I unfolded it, carefully. I put it back in the special pocket of the backpack. I stole the blanket off the bed. When I returned to the kitchen, Sam was nowhere to be seen, and Dean stood there, with a sleeping bag, and a cell phone. He handed me both, though he didn't say anything. I didn't look at him. I simply matched his silence. After a moment of just standing there, looking anywhere but at each other, I told him goodbye. I picked up the sleeping bag and put the phone in my pocket, and then, I left.

 

It was almost worse this time, knowing what I might have had. Knowing I could have had people I cared about close, a wonderful shower, a warm bed. Food and water within reach. Dean texted me, once. It said 'hey.' I didn't reply. What is there to say to that?

The job happened quite by accident. I'd been walking for days, nearly had my things stolen twice. I hadn't eaten in two days and I likely smelled terrible. The sign in the Gas-N-Sip said 'help wanted.' 

I hid my meager belongings at a local gym. I'd discovered, through a few conversations with others on the streets, that the public gyms were good for quick showers, and if you needed a place to store your things for a few hours. I used what little money I had to buy two new shirts and a pair of pants before showering at the gym. 

I didn't have any papers, because....obviously, I'd never needed them before. I made some things up, but Nora was desperate. She'd been looking for a sales associate for weeks, and no one had even inquired. She told me I could start immediately.

New life, I thought. The sales associate, Steve.  
Dean had made me watch the Great Escape once. Steve McQueen. I'd taken the character's name as well. I became Steve Hilts. I thought it suitable. I was a stranger, after all, among both friends and enemies, though it was often difficult to tell who was who. I too was trapped, trying desperately to get free. 

 

It was fine. Dull, but I could at least make Nora happy. I could do a good job. And, the break room, though uncomfortable, was warm. And I could lay my sleeping bag there at night and sleep. I could use the sink to wash my shirt, so I didn't have to go to laundromats. All I had to worry about was food. 

I'd called Dean in on a case. Angel of Mercy, as it turned out. I hadn't realized until he was going to kill me that I didn't want to die. I wanted to live, even life as a human. It isn't giving up to be human, I'd thought. Dean had come immediately when I'd called. He'd wanted me on the case, even when I didn't want to do it. It almost seemed like he'd forgotten I was useless. He'd tried to help me prepare for a date, even as he referenced people I didn't know. He'd saved me.  
I think he remembered then, that I was someone that now needed saving. He told me the same thing Metatron did. To forget about hunting. To live a normal life.

 

I even tried that time. 

But angels were killing angels. Dean said it wasn't my business anymore, but it was my _family._ That makes it my business. I left the Gas-N-Sip one night, taking my things with me. I left a note of apology to Nora, told her that there had been a family emergency, that someone had died and I had to help. I hope she understood. 

But I had some money now, and I bought a suit. One of the things that had survived, somehow, was the FBI badge Dean had made for me all those years ago. I was glad that, as an angel, I hadn't aged. The dates on the badge were wrong, but the picture was right, and if I flashed it fast, no one would notice. Dean had taught me that. 

I was puzzled, for a little bit, how the badge had survived. But if God had brought me back...well. He'd always brought back what had been left in the pockets of Jimmy's overcoat. The picture. The badge. I found a tic tac once, after the first time I'd died and returned. It had lost it's flavor. I ate it anyway. Just to see....

But I went on a case. It was my first one. I'd seen Sam and Dean a thousand times though, seen other humans do it. And it wasn't difficult. I was surprised, to see Sam and Dean there. Though not as surprised as I was to find that Dean had lied to Sam about why I had left. Surprised and...hurt. Dean hadn't even told Sam that he didn't want me there.  
To the point....it was only Dean that didn't want me. 

I managed to push those feelings away. Maybe things had changed. Maybe we'd work this case, and Dean would see that I wasn't entirely useless after all. Maybe he'd need me again.

Beer, I discovered, had a vastly different effect on me as a human. As an angel, alcohol didn't affect me at all, but now....I was drunk quite quickly. But I wanted to experience everything. I wanted to prove I was self-sufficient. That even though I wasn't going to live a normal life 'like we discussed'-rather, as Dean had suggested. Or instructed,--I was going to hunt, but I could do it in a human way, I could be a human. I could dress as a federal agent, I could work a case, I could order beers for myself and my friends, talk to a bartender. 

But I got back to the table and Sam was gone, and Dean looked lost and...he told me, once again, that I couldn't work the case with them. That it was too dangerous. 

He didn't want me there. He didn't need me. I was human, I was a danger, I was useless. 

 

I could get information though. Maybe even information that he couldn't get. If I could do that....if I could do that, then maybe he'd need me again. He'd invite me to live in the bunker. I could have that small room down the hall from his own.

I got the information. I got more information than I'd thought I could. And an idea....I didn't know if it would work, of course. Grace is...the essence of an angel. It is what makes us what we are. It is more than just a power source. But...if controlled....and I thought I could control it, it can be fluid. It can change. Grace is like love, in that way. 

And so, I took it. I felt sick, as I cut his throat, as I swallowed his grace. As I violated him, in the way that Metatron had violated me. I didn't feel...as bad as I might have if it had been an innocent. Someone that hadn't spent the better part of several hours torturing me, that hadn't killed innocents, that changed sides as quickly as a leaf blown in the wind. 

But still. I felt sick. I am disgusting. I am worse than they are. 

I called Dean from a pay phone. I told him I was tortured, I escaped. He asked how. Just...how. If I'd been human still, it would have hurt more than it did. It didn't matter, I told him, told myself.  
It didn't matter that How was all that mattered to him. I am an angel again, I told him, told myself.  
It would be fine. I don't need human emotions to confuse and torture me. 

I am not sure I believed it. I am not sure I do believe it now. It hurts, still, the memories. Not as much as they could, I know, but the veil is thinner now than it was before. Emotion still bleeds through, stronger than it did before I was human. 

I am an angel again.  
I am not useless.  
Not a burden.  
Dean needs me.

I cast off a new life. I cannot have one. I do not deserve human happinesses. I never did. And Dean doesn't need a friend.  
Dean needs a tool. An angel.  
I told him once, I wasn't simply a hammer. I was wrong. I am. Just a hammer. At the time, I was simply in the wrong toolbox.  
I was broken, and now, I am whole, patched together with stolen grace, facing a war that I helped create that I must help finish.  
I am a hammer. I will be Dean's hammer. I will do what I can and I will help him. I will make sure that I am what he needs. 

 

Need is forever. The need doesn't change. The ability to be what is needed does.  
Human love is fickle and changing.  
Angels are made to love wholly.  
And humans need with the same intensity.  
I am an angel.  
And I will be what he needs.

**Author's Note:**

> So. Episode 9 pissed me off.  
> I feel like they retconned everything we know about grace and how it works and what it is.  
> But anyway.  
> The rest of the episode was fine, but that one bit sort of ruined the whole thing for me.  
> I have elected to try and ignore it.


End file.
